A Game of Textbooks
by Raudhr Blodhgarm
Summary: Yes, I know, how original, but I haven't touched Fanfiction in forever, so I wrote something light and fun. Will try to continue updating. Obviously, just a modern-day setting of game of Thrones. Jaime's a military Captain. Jon's a member of the border guard. Brienne's there. What's not to like? Have a read, write a review, make my day, eh? Also, I have good grammar. I swear.
1. Chapter 1

**A Game of Textbooks**

**(To head off all of the "Well that's original, isn't it?" reviews, it's been seriously about 8 months since I touched fan fiction, so I didn't want to start off on anything serious or challenging. It's just a humor fic, really nothing much to it unless I really like it, so basically… Don't read it like it's Shakespeare. Read it like Fan Fiction. Enjoy.)**

_**Jon**_

Jon slowly, blearily opened his eyes. "Crazy night, Jon. Crazy night." He murmured.

A warm cannonball hit him full force in the chest. "Someone's happy to see their favorite drunk, aren't they? Aren't they?" he muttered into Ghost's fur.

He rolled out of bed and glanced at his alarm clock. Four in the morning. Of course that's when his body chose to awaken. I mean, why bother actually operating of a normal schedule?

He stumbled into the bathroom of his dorm and started shaving the stubble his face insisted on growing, but going no farther.

He started to climb into the shower, and then looked back at a certain pitiful looking German Shepherd.

"You're not showering with me. Not again."

Ghost didn't break eye contact.

"No. Not this time."

Ghost stayed where he was.

"One of these days, you're going to the pound, you hear me?" he sighed. "Fuck it. Fine. Get in the shower."

Slowly, the tail started wagging. Jon turned the faucet on far too hot, then flipped it back down, almost stumbling over the furry form at his feet as he did so.

A few minutes later, he walked into the living room wrapped in a towel and shadows by a rather ripe wet dog.

One of the doors in the house was flung open, sending Jon into standing position like a bullet. Gilly, a Native American girl, and also his friend Sam's girlfriend, stumbled in. Jon froze for a moment, clad in nothing but a small bath towel.

Gilly stared at him.

He stared at Gilly.

The towel fell off. "Ah shit!" Jon snarled, catching it, and holding it in impromptu position as Gilly turned very deliberately, and walked back into Sam's room.

It really was amazing, Jon thought as he pulled on a pair of jeans, how human-like Ghost's smiles could be at times.

_**Jaime**_

Colonel Jaime Lannister of the United States Army had a very specific way of living. A very, as he called it, traditional way of thinking. As some people called it, chivalrous. As described by multiple feminists, downright sexist.

But not to his face.

Colonel Jaime Lannister was a very intimidating man. He bore the Purple Heart, as well as countless other military awards.

He was, in a word, a hardass.

And he permitted no anomalies, no abnormalities, in the way his life was lived. That is, until he met a certain anomaly named Brienne. An anomaly that for the first time in living memory outshot Colonel Jaime Lannister on the shooting range. This sort of thing was the fodder for infinite water cooler chats in the very normal, everything-goes-in-its-place sort of town that was King's Landing.

A small port on the coast of California, it got its name from the legends of a Hebrew King landing on its shores. This town had no room for such things as Brienne Tarth, the ugliest, shiest, and most downright deadly woman that may have ever walked the earth.

And the thing was, after completing a feat unaccomplished in living memory, she didn't say a word about it. She didn't bother collecting on all the lost bets.

She just smiled shyly and muttered "Well, I suppose you'll owe me one." This was an intolerable situation for Jaime, on account of the fact that, as he had been taught when he was a child, a Lannister always pays his debts.

And Jaime wasn't willing to postpone the paying of this one. This unfortunate mentality led him to his current predicament; namely, being stuck at an Italian dinner with Brienne Tarth.

"She won't ask for anything you can't pay for," you said to yourself, thought Jaime bitterly as he sat in the candlelit booth he had reserved. "You are, after all, a man of means." You had to go and approach her and bloody insist when she said that she would count it even for the honor of besting you.

Now that he thought back on it, it was unfortunately similar to angler catching a fish that thinks itself clever. You lay out a situation that is just too good to be true, and the fish is just clever enough to think they can take care of it, but not wise enough to know that they're biting a hook.

"No, I must insist that I pay this debt."

"No really, it was an honor shooting against you."

"Ma'am, I won't be able to rest peacefully until I repay you."

"Well, you could always take me out for dinner."

Not that he thought back on it, he rather looked like a fish as well, his jaw hanging open, making an unfortunate gulping motion.

He returned to reality and saw the damned girl raising an eyebrow at him across the table. He shook himself off and returned to the present.

Come on, man, it's a dinner with a girl, not a death sentence, he scolded himself. He glanced at her face. Well, not quite, anyways.

She sighed. "You seem quiet." She muttered quietly, almost to herself.

"Oh you'd be surprised how loud I can be. But for the most part, I try to avoid swearing at women." He grinned.

She turned her head down shyly.

Jaime shrugged and gave her his most winning smile. If you succeed at seducing here, you're not going want to reap the rewards, he reminded himself.

She shrugged and flagged a waiter. "Yes, I think I'll have the shrimp dish." She asked quietly.

Jaime sighed and murmured "The usual, John. Yes, with the Cabernet." He turned his attention back to Brienne. "Well, if you're not going offer a world renowned sense of wit, I'm not quite sure why you brought me here, woman."

She looked at him and protested softly "My name's Brienne."

"Oh, I know what your name is, you've said it often enough. But, you may have noticed, I haven't changed my terminology for you. Perhaps I'm sending mixed signals. Allow me to make myself clear." He leaned forward. "To me, you remain 'woman.'"

She glared at him. "And you remain stuck-up. But we've ordered our food, so let's try not the bring the house down with witty humor."


	2. Chapter 2

**A Game of Textbooks**

**Chapter 2**

**(Once again, it's just a fun little fic, so don't hold up a magnifying glass to it. If I receive no reviews by chapter 5 I will stop writing simply for the reason of writing other things that may be more warmly received. If you review before I upload next the chapter I will respond to your review in the Author's note. Note: Jon is not Eddard Stark's bastard in this. He has an entirely different family.)**

_**Robb**_

Robb Stark was one of three sons of an important business owner, Ned Stark. He lived a privileged life, surrounded by creature comforts. Winterfell Manufacturing was quite a lucrative business, and Robb took advantage of the fact. He lived a relatively carefree life.

And then recession struck. The company was losing money, and therefore, so were the Starks. But the family was prepared to pull together.

But, it was not to be. Ned Stark was shot in a bank robbing, leaving his family of one mother, three sons, and two daughters to fend for themselves.

Finally, Catelyn Stark, mother of five, was left with no choice but to marry the heir to the company to a rich woman. This was why she sat next to a computer, sifting through papers.

"The Lannisters have money… no. Not that low. There are always the Umbers… oh, they're hurting too…" she murmured to herself, "so that leaves… AHA!" she shouted. "I've got it! The Freys should do quite nicely."

She smiled to herself, and then shuddered with revulsion. "I'm marrying away my first child… for money." She said softly.

Then her expression hardened.

"I have no choice. It's for the good of the family. We all have to make sacrifices." She assured herself.

Arya, the outgoing youngest Stark girl, shouted from across the house "I'm going to my fencing classes!"

Catelyn replied "Make sure you don't text while you drive!"

Arya rolled her eyes and hopped in the car, and pulled out of the garage out record speeds. Catelyn gave vent to a small sigh of worry. "She's going to crash one of these days…" she muttered.

Rickon, her little three year old, toddled in. "Mommy! Mommy! Bran's saying that there's a monster under my bed!"

A pair of large hands picked up the boy from behind, eliciting a long, drawn out shriek. "It's just me!" Rob winced.

Instantly cheerful again, Rickon smiled. "Hi Robb! Spin me! Spin me!"

Robb set him down. "Not today. Go play with Bran."

"He said there's a monster under my bed!"

"Why don't you check under there and see?"

Rickon looked at him with a look of absolute terror. "But… but… what if the Bogeyman gets me?"

"Then punch him!" Robb said emphatically.

Given a definite course of action, Rickon rushed off.

"Whatcha doing, Mom?" Robb asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Oh, just some bills and things. It would bore you." she said, spinning around to face him.

Robb's expression grew serious. "I probably need to learn about that sort of thing now, don't I?"

Catelyn shook her head. "I can manage it for some years to come. I'm not old and decrepit yet, you know." She replied, spinning back around to face the computer.

Robb shrugged. "Whatever the great Lady Stark commands, I obey." He said jokingly, and headed out the door.

He opened the door into the mild weather of California, and stepped outside. He pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

A few miles away, a boy named Theon answered a call. "Yeah?" he asked bluntly.

"Meet me at the shooting range in ten minutes. Bring a gun for me," was the response he received, followed in quick time by a click.

"Never one for subtleties, were you, Robb?" Theon muttered, stepping into the garage.

_A few minutes later…_

Robb smiled as his old friend walked in the door. Theon was a striking young man with the jet-black hair and pale skin his family favored.

"I brought your favorite." The green-eyed boy said curtly.

Robb laughed. "You know me too well." He told him as he flicked open the latches on the gun case. He eased the top open and sighed. "Just like you to bring me a bloody .22 rifle." Robb shook his head.

Theon grinned. "Like I said, you're not ready for the real guns," he grinned, hefting an AR-15.

"I suppose this is your idea of a clever ploy to get me to challenge you to pistols?" Robb asked him.

Theon hesitated for a moment. "Fair enough. Yeah, you got me."

Robb groaned. "Consider that ploy efficient. What'd you bring me in the way of small arms?"

Theon smiled. "Nothing short of your real favorite, my friend. Behold, the classic Luger."

Robb nodded his head sagely. "I'm glad you realized that no matter what you gave me, I'd still whip your ass." He mocked as he opened the door to the range. Theon's reply was cut short as he saw who stood there. None other than Arya Stark and Jon Snow having a match.

_**Arya**_

Arya laughed as she emptied another magazine into that target while Jon struggled to keep up. "I'm glad to see the Border Guard training is still up to scratch." She said patronizingly.

"I'm not going to honor that with a response." Jon said slowly, concentrating fiercely on the targets, the tip of his tongue protruding ever so slightly, his eyebrows beetling.

She set the gun down. "Ya snooze, ya lose, Jon." She turned to leave, and froze.

She was transfixed by the disapproving glare of Robb, almost like a bird and a snake.

"Fencing class, eh?" he said.

Jon began to respond when he recognized the voice. He practically dropped the gun and turned around guiltily. "Oh… hey, Robb." He said weakly.

Robb didn't turn his gaze from Arya.

"I suppose this is your idea of rewarding driving privileges?" Robb snarled as he grabbed Arya's arm and steered her out of the room.

"Let go, asshole!" she yipped, shaking free of his grasp.

"Why should I?" Robb said coldly.

"Because I wasn't doing anything wrong!" she snarled. "I still have time to get to fencing."

Robb stared at her. "I don't give a damn about fencing. You went on a date with Jon bloody Snow."

Arya opened her mouth to protest, but Jon beat her to it. "It wasn't a date anymore than your match with Theon. I'm practicing outside of the military academy." He said quickly.

Theon stepped forward. "Right, and if Robb found me in bed with Sansa we'd just be fucking 'practicing!'"

"Stay out of this, Greyjoy." Jon growled.

Arya piped up "Why exactly is it a problem if I am dating Jon Snow? I wasn't aware I was five years old."

Robb glanced back at Arya. "You can date whoever you want. But not this bastard. Not ever."

Jon put in "Hey asshole, you want to explain to her what happened? Maybe then let her make a decision?"

"Shut your damn mouth, Snow." Theon pushed Jon back.

"Leave it, Theon. I'll take Jon's idea. Let's tell Arya why I'm not going to let her date this cad." Robb said.

"Oh yeah! Tell her your side of the story why don't you?" Jon snarled. Theon slammed his forearm into Jon's throat, pressing him against the wall.

"I'd recommend you be quiet." He whispered. Jon grudgingly nodded. Theon released the pressure to the point that Jon could breathe.

Robb sat down. "Jon here," he gestured at the restrained figure, "used to be a friend of mine. Quite good, really. I thought I knew him. I liked him. Then he displayed his real colors." Jon opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. "It all started when he couldn't keep his fat mouth shut and pissed off a gang. They started beating up on him, and me and Theon got 'em off him and helped him out. That really pissed 'em off. They started coming after us, but we kept taking care of them. It was that Mance Rayder guy. And we kept fighting with them, and they kept fighting with us. But Jon, we noticed, wasn't helping out. He was avoiding us, even. So we went to his house, to see what was up. Guess who we caught him with? None other than Ygritte, a member of aforesaid gang. So that's what he chose. Not his friends, not what he believed in. He betrayed us for a slut."

"Call her a slut again and I swear to God I will break your neck." Jon said quietly.

Theon glanced back at Jon and applied pressure. "I don't believe I gave you permission to speak." He laughed.

"Let go of him, Theon." Robb called.

Theon leaned in close to Jon. "Til' next time, Snow." He pushed off the wall, and headed back to stand by Robb. "So Arya, with that knowledge, who would you go with? Your brother, or Jon?"

Arya looked back at Jon, torn for a moment, and then trudged over to Robb.

"You, Arya Stark, are now going to fencing class."


	3. Chapter 3

**A Game of Textbooks**

**Chapter 3**

**(Loverly: Yes. Everyone is going to meet everyone. At some point. Also, Petyr is Sansa's age, so it's not pedophilic.)**

_**Sansa**_

Sansa sat down in front of her laptop, flicking through the web. She was in her dorm, with her roommates, Dany and Petyr. Dany, it looked, was cramming for a test, as usual, while Petyr was relaxed in the corner reading a book. "So… pretty quiet in here." She said, to the room at large.

"Save for Dany's muttering as she learns the geography of China, yes." Petyr replied, not taking his eyes off his book.

"Just because you went for literary arts with a major in Arthurian literature, officially the easiest course ever, doesn't mean no one in the room has to work." Dany snapped.

"I've been studying since I woke up." Petyr countered.

"By reading a bloody book!" Dany replied shrilly.

Sansa glanced up from her browsing. "Both of you stop. I didn't necessarily say that you had to change the fact that it was peaceful for once."

Both Dany and Petyr's responses were cut off by a rapping at the door. Sansa waited for either Petyr or Dany, who were sitting practically in front of the door, to get the door. "Thanks guys, but no, really, I'll get the door, there's no need to insist." Sansa muttered.

"You do that." Petyr replied casually. Sansa scowled at him, to which he cheerfully shrugged.

She flung open the door, revealing none other than Mya Stone, an old friend of Petyr's.

"Hello, college." Mya breathed. She flung open the curtains, eliciting vampire-like hisses from both Dany and Petyr.

"Gently, Mya!" Petyr winced.

"I like it!" she said cheerfully. "I mean, it could probably use a healthy dose of spring cleaning, and it's a bit small for four people, but I'm sure we can make it work."

Sansa held up a hand to stem the flow of words. "We? Four people? What are talking about?"

Mya looked at her quizzically. "I'm moving in, of course! Didn't the dean tell you? Hmmm, then again, dear Dean Hoster is a tad bit dusty in the head." She rushed into the small kitchen. "Look! You've got a microwave!"

Sansa glared accusingly at Petyr, who dutifully avoided her gaze. "Did you invite her?" she hissed.

Petyr raised an eyebrow. "What, and awaken your jealous fury? I thought I told you, I'm clever, not a damned fool."

Sansa blushed. "We're friends, Petyr. Friends."

Petyr smiled wolfishly. "Oh, I know we are. I just wasn't quite sure you knew that."

Dany groaned. "Well, while you two deal with all the UST floating in the air over there, can someone go make the poor girl feel welcome?"

Sansa muttered "She seems to pretty good at making herself at home, but fine." And trudged into the kitchen.

Mya was busying herself pressing all the buttons on the microwave. "Erm… Help yourself to any food we have in the fridge." Sansa muttered, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Hm? Oh yeah. Thanks. I'll do that. Right." Mya didn't remove her gaze from the interior of the microwave as it began cooking.

Sansa walked back into the main room. "You know," she said to the room at large as she flopped onto the couch, "I get the feeling we're about to have the privilege of being in unique position of having a hyperactive mini-tornado as a roommate."

_**Jaime**_

Jaime walked Brienne stiffly back to her car. He opened the door for her, and she muttered "Not even a goodbye?"

Jaime smiled. "Sure. If I never saw you again, it would be too soon."

Brienne shuffled her feet for a moment, then snuck a quick kiss on the cheek in. "The same to you." she said, hopped in her car, and drove away, leaving Jaime, for the second time in as many days, completely bewildered by the turn of events.

_**Bran**_

**(Note: This segment is not important. It is just a hopefully funny little interlude.)**

Rickon ran into his bedroom, and stopped next to the bed. "Are you there, Mr. Bogeyman?" he peeked under his bed.

A form hurtled towards the small boy!

"IMMA PUNCH YOU!" Rickon squeaked, flailing wildly. One fist connected solidly with a fleshy substance.

"Ow! What was that for?" A familiar voice complained in the shadows. Rickon gasped in horror.

"THE BOGEYMAN ATE BRAN!" he struck at the figure with all his tiny might.

"Stop it!" the figure yelled. "It's me! I'm Bran! It's a costume!" Rickon stared at Bran for a moment.

"I dun trust you." he muttered warily.

Bran groaned. "Come on, I sound like Bran, don't I?"

Rickon squinted. "You don't look like a costume."

Bran harrumphed. "Here, I'll just take it off." He fumbled with the zipper for a moment, then stepped out of the costume. "See?"

Rickon considered this for a moment, and then punched him in the arm. "Dun scare me again."

_**Catelyn**_

Catelyn Stark was currently in the process of stalking young Roslin Frey.

She wanted to figure out where she went on her daily routine, so she could get Robb and her to "coincidentally" bump into each other. Thus far, she was pretty certain Roslin hadn't noticed. Catelyn had noted down thus far that Roslin went sporadically to the bagel café, but every morning she went to the food court at the mall.

That'll be the place, Catelyn decided, heading back to her car. Only to see a certain Colonel Jaime Lannister leaning against her car.

She stopped and glared at him. "Lannister." She acknowledged coldly.

"Stark." He replied. "What I wanted to say is-"

Catelyn cut him off. "Of absolutely no interest to me." She finished. "Get off my car."

Jaime glared at her. "You might be interested in what I have to say. Or maybe I should just go talk to Robb." He made to walk away.

Catelyn grabbed his arm. "Stay away from my son." She snarled.

Jaime shrugged. "Then listen." She subsided, seething silently. "I want to help you with whatever you're doing. To make it up to you for- uh- that one- you know…"

Catelyn slapped him. Hard. "You will never, ever, earn my forgiveness, Colonel." She snarled, opened her car door, and slammed it shut.

"Wait!" he yelled, slapping the window.

She turned to him, cracked the one finger salute, and drove off.

_**That's all, folks!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Game of Textbooks**

**Chapter 4**

** (Thanks for the reviews, basically, 5 reviews for every ten chapters is my requirement. Now, onto the responses:**

**ChasetheOriginal: Stop changing your name. And 4/5? 8/10? Surely I could get 9/10?**

**Does anyone notice the military theme to all this? The Navy, the Border Guard, the Army, you're going to LOVE the next branch that gets involved.)**

_**Davos**_

Davos Seaworth was a Navy officer under the command of a certain Stannis Baratheon.

Robert Baratheon was formerly a General in the Army, but in a tragic hunting accident, he died the day before his childhood friend, Ned Stark, was shot. This timing brought about certain conjectures about the Lannisters, who were long known to have feuded with both families, and coincidentally, had one of their youngest promoted to the position Robert left.

Robert was survived by his younger brothers, Renly and Stannis. Stannis had continued life as usual, while Renly had opted to stay out of the military, going against generations of tradition.

All this, of course, was a bit over Davos's head. He wasn't what many would call "A great thinker." Rather, he was the perfect soldier. He knew his business, and he stayed out of other people's.

And above all, he could take and follow orders.

But certain things had come to his attention that he was finding hard to ignore, as was his custom. Certain shady behaviors on the part of his commanding officer, Stannis Baratheon.

But Davos had been taught that his place was to obey, to the best of his abilities, his commander's orders. And so, our stalwart seaman is caught between a rock and a hard place. This was why he hesitated as he raised his fist to knock on Stannis's door.

Is it really my problem? He asked himself. Surely, I don't understand what's going on. Do I? He was turned away and came face to face with Melisandre, a certain woman rumored in his town to be a witch. Davos wasn't a man to trust such rumors, but one thing he knew: She was nothing but trouble, witch or no.

"Well. If you could move away from Stannis's door…" she said in a clear, crisp British accent.

Davos began to passively move away but then suspicion rooted. "Why are you requiring entrance to his quarters?" he asked.

She laughed a long, full laugh. "I can assure you I'm not here to assassinate him. I'm simply an old friend." She drew herself to attention and gave a mocking salute. "Permission to enter?"

Davos hesitated, but then the door opened, admitting Stannis himself into the hallway. "Davos? What are you doing lurking outside my door?" he asked gruffly, turning around, and seeing Melisandre. "Ah! Melisandre! Good to see you! Come on in, come in." she strode inside gracefully, giving one glance over her shoulder at Davos, closely followed by Stannis.

"So, I was thinking-" Melisandre began, and then the door slammed shut, muffling the voices beyond Davos's hearing. The seeds of conspiracy were now fully rooted in his head. He simply couldn't believe that Stannis, who was the king of all hardasses, would be friends with Melisandre. He, as a low ranking officer, couldn't simply barge in.

However, if he had, say urgent news… He shook his head in disgust. He wasn't a man for this intrigue and deception and plotting. He was going to trust Stannis, and hope to any god out there that trust wouldn't be betrayed.

_**Jon**_

Jon emptied his gun into the target with a concentration like none his drill sergeant, Alliser Thorne, or his captain, Jeor Mormont, had ever seen.

Sergeant Thorne began racking his brain for ways to punish Snow for this, but for once, he came up blank.

Jeor, on the other hand, walked up to the smaller figure and laid a massive hand on his shoulder. "Is something the matter, Jon?" he asked with a concerned air.

"No, Captain. Is there a problem?" Jon replied, still firing. Jeor hesitated. Maybe I should just leave the boy alone, he thought, it's not really my problem. Then he shook his head. Jon was under his command, and therefore, under his care.

"You seem, erm, distracted."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"No, not a problem boy, I was just wondering, is there anything on your mind? Something happening at home?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then."

"Thank you, sir."

Jeor strode away shaking his head. I wonder what happened, he pondered. He had no doubt that something had happened. Jon was normally much livelier than this. Hopefully the boys in his squad could help him out.

Meanwhile, just that was happening. Pyp, a friend of Jon's and the squad clown, strolled up to him. "Planning on shooting anyone soon?" he asked, studying the impressive results of his efforts.

"Just you unless you leave me alone." Jon replied, still concentrating fiercely on the target. Pyp laughed.

"With that level of accuracy, you'd be lucky to hit somewhere in my hemisphere." Pyp mocked. "Besides, wouldn't that offend your girlfriend or something?"

Jon cracked a smile. "My girlfriend might shoot you first."

"Sounds like she's a firecracker."

"In more ways than one." Jon replied.

Pyp clicked his tongue. "Well, my, my, is our chaste friend finally learning about the seamier side of life?"

Jon laughed. "Oh yes, I'm the chaste one. I'm just like a little five year old, my mind pure and innocent. I mean, my junk is significantly less innocent, but it's the thought that counts."

Pyp nodded sagely. "Of course, of course."

A massive pair of hands lifted the small boy, set him to one side, and the owner of those hands stepped forward into Pyp's former place. "Well, hello Mammoth. Nice to see you still have a fine grasp of manners and etiquette."

"Mammoth," as he was called by his squad, was just as tall and hairy as his namesake. He ruffled Pyp's hair. "Shut up, pipsqueak." He laughed, which sounded vaguely like an amused avalanche.

Jon shook his head. "Border Guards, where we take our duties seriously."

Pyp laughed. "Some do. Some don't. Slayer, for one, takes the Guard very seriously. So seriously that he nobly defended our great country against a plague of coyotes."

Sam Tarly, or "Slayer" as he was called, was a coward. A full blown, self admitted coward. So, when he was on patrol, and bushes started rustling, he began a voice cracking tirade of demanding that the unknown figure "Show himself!" Finally, terrified out of his wits, Sam had opened fire, sadly killing a coyote hiding in the bushes. Ever since, he was known as either "Sam, killer of Mexicans" or simply "Slayer."

Jon laughed.

"I swear, it's almost like we're brothers."


	5. Chapter 5

**Game of Textbooks**

**Chapter 5**

**(Lovely, lovely reviews. I noticed a repeated reviewer, which makes me happy! All right, and, in advance, forgive me for any problems in that last chapter. I forgot to edit it, because I was a bit drunk, and REALLY tired, but I wanted to get new content out. Now, REVIEWER RESPONSES:**

**Lottiedot: I'm glad. Really, my goal is to evoke strong emotions in you, whether it is rage, amusement, sorrow, triumph, any emotion. So I'm glad you laughed out loud. It's hard to achieve that. Really hard.**

**Loverly: I noticed you reviewed once more. Well, you won't find out about Jon's girlfriend for a few chapters, because I rotate what subplot I'm doing each chapter. Just like beloved George R.R. Martin, I make you wait to hear from your favorite characters. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**I'm thinking ten or fifteen chapters should be enough, but if this story gets out of hand I'll write some more. BUT I'M FINISHING THIS ONE, DAMMIT.)**

_**Petyr**_

Petyr glanced across the room at Mya, who was intensely concentrating on the book in front of her. He hadn't realized just how much he knew about her until she came back. The way she cocked her head when asked a question, never smoothed her hair back, and wore leather boots every day.

He glanced across the room at Sansa. He found himself increasingly attracted to her, but he was all too well aware of her brother, Robb, famed for being brutally overprotective.

He was deep in thought when he started backwards, startled by a loud bang. He stared at the massive textbook on his desk and slowly raised his eyes. The intimidating form of Professor Qyburn loomed over him. "Since you find your own personal introspective more important than schoolwork, I'll give you the opportunity to indulge them tomorrow morning. 6:00 A.M, Petyr. Be here." Petyr began to shrug philosophically when he remembered that he had agreed to help Mya study early tomorrow morning.

"Sir! If I could fulfill that day after tomorrow…" Qyburn whirled around and glared at him.

"If you could, in fact, fulfill that day after tomorrow, I would find that quite irrelevant." He snapped.

Petyr looked at Mya apologetically. She slumped, biting her lip, a look of disappointment on her face.

That, as well as a combination of other circumstances, resulted in an idea in Petyr's head. If he could, say, change Qyburn's schedule to read that Petyr was due the day after tomorrow, Mya would be very, very grateful. And she might just have a very special way of showing that gratitude. Petyr smiled slyly to himself. If she didn't, that clarified his position with Sansa.

Well, well, well, Petyr grinned, you sir have just found a win-win where once there was just a loss. Then his expression sobered. But of course, there was always the small matter of breaking into Qyburn's office. He dreaded to even ponder how the vindictive professor might react if he caught one his choice victims breaking into his office and tampering with his personal documents.

He shook his head. For now, it might be best if he returned to his schoolwork. No point in provoking the glowering figure at the front of the room anymore than he already had, he thought to himself.

_Later that night…_

Petyr slipped on a trench coat, his fedora, and a dark pair of jeans. He didn't want to look too much like he was trying to sneak about, but he also had the premonition that he may end up crouching behind a potted plant, trying to avoid being spotted by Qyburn, or a security guard, or the janitor, even.

He patted his pocket, making sure he still had the password-crunching flash drive in his pocket. He smiled to himself. This was going to be easy, he assured himself.

"Where are you headed at this time of night?" a voice asked suspiciously behind him.

Petyr about smacked his head on the roof, he jumped so high. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" he said peevishly, turning to face Sansa.

She sighed. "You're going to Qyburn's office to change his schedule, aren't you?" she said matter-of-factly.

Petyr blinked. "How did you…" he stammered.

She shook her head and laughed. "Oh, Petyr. When I saw your face in class I suspected you were going to sabotage that class somehow. Then finding you dressing for a night time expedition confirmed that you were going to do just that."

Petyr shook his head doggedly. "Don't you try to guilt-trick me into not doing this. I have my reasons for going, and I think they're plenty good enough to justify my actions." The quest for the perfect girl, a voice in his head laughed, justifies all crimes. Shut up, he told it.

Sansa raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Right. Let me guess. You don't want to miss your little 'study session' with Mya?"

Petyr laughed. He was a good liar when prepared. "I'm not risking my academic reputation for a study session with our friendly neighborhood Labrador Retriever. Trust me, it's quite a bit more important than that."

Sansa stepped closer. "Then tell me!" she urged him. "You know I won't rat you out, and I might have a better idea than this hare-brained scheme."

Petyr hesitated. "I can't Sansa. I just can't."

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you really think you can't trust me? Is that really what you think?" she asked, a hint of betrayal evident in her tone.

Petyr felt a few heartstrings rip. "No, Sansa, of course I trust you. This is just something I don't really want to share with anyone."

Sansa looked up at him. "Except for Mya." She said dully.

Petyr shook his head. "Especially Mya." He sidled closer.

Sansa sidled closer.

You can imagine what happened next.

**(I'm sorry for the last line or if there were any big beefs with this chapter, I just really like this chapter. And now, a little epilogue to the chapter.)**

Mya had woken up early, hoping against hope that Petyr might have found a way to avoid the early class. But, soon, she realized that even Petyr had his limits and there was no way he could convince Qyburn to change his mind. She sighed, walked over to the dresser, and put the condoms away.


End file.
